A thing I wrote last year.
I think my favourite thing about year 13 camp was the fact that the heart beat in my stomach quietened. For three whole days a sort of peace settled over my body. The humming in my brain ceased and all I could think of was the feeling of dewy grass under my tired feet. It was the first thing, both mornings. My mind didn't travel, it remained in Shakespeare Park along with the rest of me, another rare feat. I laughed without thinking of repercussions and ran along the beach without having sadness follow me. With my mind miraculously clear I was able to focus on my friends and class mates and really talk to them. I haven’t been able to properly since year 10 camp. The sun glared so loudly I spent three days looking at the world through tan tinted lenses. And when night fell I saw my friends’ faces dimly lit in the darkness, smiling as shadows would play along their cheeks. I remember singed skin and then shockingly cold showers and walking so long I thought of nothing but the view ahead of me. I remember the dry, cracked face paint that decorated most of my limbs turning to dust by nightfall, leaving behind a slight smudge of blue. It was just camp, but it was enough to make me happier than I had been in a while.